six or seven others, was examining a church in process of repair, and he
and his acolytes laughed loudly as they saw my plight.

I remembered having laughed myself when I had seen good men struggling
with adversity in the person of a jackass, and the recollection filled me
with penitence. That was in my old light days, before this trouble came
upon me. God knows at least that I shall never laugh again, thought I.
But oh, what a cruel thing is a farce to those engaged in it!

A little out of the village, Modestine, filled with the demon, set her
heart upon a by-road, and positively refused to leave it. I dropped all
my bundles, and, I am ashamed to say, struck the poor sinner twice across
the face. It was pitiful to see her lift her head with shut eyes, as if
waiting for another blow. I came very near crying; but I did a wiser
thing than that, and sat squarely down by the roadside to consider my
situation under the cheerful influence of tobacco and a nip of brandy.
Modestine, in the meanwhile, munched some black bread with a contrite
hypocritical air. It was plain that I must make a sacrifice to the gods
of shipwreck. I threw away the empty bottle destined to carry milk; I
threw away my own white bread, and, disdaining to act by general average,
kept the black bread for Modestine; lastly, I threw away the cold leg of
mutton and the egg-whisk, although this last was dear to my heart. Thus
I found room for everything in the basket, and even stowed the boating-
coat on the top. By means of an end of cord I slung it under one arm;
and although the cord cut my shoulder, and the jacket hung almost to the
ground, it was with a heart greatly lightened that I set forth again.

I had now an arm free to thrash Modestine, and cruelly I chastised her.
If I were to reach the lakeside before dark, she must bestir her little
shanks to some tune. Already the sun had gone down into a windy-looking
mist; and although there were still a few streaks of gold far off to the
east on the hills and the black fir-woods, all was cold and grey about
our onward path. An infinity of little country by-roads led hither and
thither among the fields. It was the most pointless labyrinth. I could
see my destination overhead, or rather the peak that dominates it; but
choose as I pleased, the roads always ended by turning away from it, and
sneaking back towards the valley, or northward along the margin of the
hills. The failing light, the waning